


And My Heart Beats So That I Can Hardly Speak

by whatthefoucault



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1930s, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Brooklyn, Dancing, Fluff, French jazz, Gay Bucky Barnes, M/M, Ovaltine, Pining, Pining Bucky Barnes, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2016-08-14
Packaged: 2018-08-08 17:14:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7766446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/pseuds/whatthefoucault
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve doesn't dance, but this was a special occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And My Heart Beats So That I Can Hardly Speak

**Author's Note:**

> I like to think this is what happened on the evening of Steve's acceptance to art school, [after a steak dinner, a glass of wine, and a slice of lemon meringue pie.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7410154)

“I don’t know about this, Buck.”

Bucky set the needle down, and the hissing crackles gave way to the bright sounds of [hot jazz](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BouCnGs70H8).

“Dancing’s not that hard, honest. Just like boxing, but try not to punch out your partner,” Bucky advised him, taking his hand. "Let’s try a nice slow shag, nothing too complicated. Just do what I do.“

Bucky liked to consider himself something of an accomplished dancer. He was popular enough with the girls, with their pretty dresses and their smart little shoes, so light on their feet, but he always asked if they had a friend. He had this friend, see, and he may not have been so much of a dancer, but when you got to know him, well, he was really something special.

"What kinda girl’s gonna want to dance with me, anyway?” asked Steve.

“Who wouldn’t want to dance with you? You’re - ” he wanted to say beautiful, but stopped himself short. "You’re gonna be a famous illustrator one of these days.“

There was no reason for Bucky to feel a flutter as they laced their fingers together. There was no reason to feel a comforting warmth as he noticed the softness of Steve’s eyelashes as he stared down at their feet. It was not as though they had never spent every night crumpled together in the little double bed they shared in their little apartment, not as though he had never hauled Steve home from a rumble or spent hours sitting still in the altogether while Steve practiced his life drawing. It was not as though being in love with Steve was new. It was just as it had been for years, but that warmth, that little longing that tugged at his heart, only grew brighter, more insistent, terrified and brave.

Bucky could tell that Steve was doing his best to keep up with the kicks and hops of the dance, missing a step here and there, scrambling to catch the rhythm again. Steve was an abominable dancer. It was the most fun Bucky had ever had dancing.

"Promise me something,” said Bucky.

“Sure,” said Steve, as they swayed in time with the music, more or less. "Promise you what?“

"Promise me that when you’re a famous artist, you’ll still have time for an old paperpusher like me,” said Bucky.

“Come on, Buck,” said Steve, his steps slowing and clumsy, “you can’t get rid of me that easy.”

Steve finally pulled his gaze away from their feet, smiling at Bucky so earnestly that it was all Bucky could do not to steel his nerves, close the little gap that hung between them, and kiss him at long last. Don’t be a fucking idiot, Barnes, he told himself. That was just asking for trouble.

“Too bad,” he said, shrugging it off. "You’re still a lousy dancer, Rogers.“

"And you sure know how to sweet-talk a fella,” replied Steve, pressing a swift kiss to Bucky’s cheek before turning toward the kitchen. "What would you say to a nice warm Ovaltine before bed?“

The whisper left behind by Steve’s kiss lingered longer than it ought to, thought Bucky, tracing his fingertips over his cheek, glowing. "Sure,” he said, as casually as he could squeak out the words, “that sounds real nice, pal.”

**Author's Note:**

> * The shag was a popular dance style at the time in America, honest.
> 
>  
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr!](http://whatthefoucault.tumblr.com)


End file.
